“Both of you?”
Maddie nodded. “It’ll be interesting.”
I grinned. “Will your mom let you share a room?”
She snorted. “She’s still so paranoid that something happened between the two of us in high school. I don’t know what I’d need to do to convince her.”
I laughed. “Probably just start making up stories. Specifically about times when she wasn’t home.”
Maddie clutched her stomach. “She’d kill me!”
We ate and started round two on American Presidents, and Maddie told me about Chase’s plans for New Year’s. The Hitmen were doing some charity skate on New Year’s day, but they didn’t have specific plans for New Year’s Eve.
It was exactly what I’d hoped to hear. “My parents are throwing a party. Neighbours, friends. We’ll have appetizers, drinks, and games. You and Chase should come.”
She blinked. “They’d be okay with that?”
“Of course. It’ll be fun. Rob and Shar are invited, too. My parents are dying to see Carter.”
Maddie considered. “That actually sounds amazing.”
I was beyond grateful. Having something to look forward to now that any plans outside of my family seemed to be obsolete meant more to me than Maddie or Shar could’ve possibly known.
I took a sip of my ginger ale. “Thank you. For setting this up.”
Maddie winked. “Family, babe. Don’t ever forget it.”
_____
The last week of the semester went by in a blur.
Final papers. Studio clean-up. Last critiques. Shar’s holiday concert.
At the gallery, things ramped up instead of down. We had a small media event with the selected Douglas students. We did photos and a short Q&A about the emerging artist component of the Marcus Foundation program.
“You did this,” Tash whispered, squeezing my hand. “You got me up on that wall.”
“You did this,” I corrected. “I didn’t know it was you when I voted.”
Norman hovered in the background, smiling his benevolent-founder smile, talking to reporters about investment in the next generation. More than once I looked for Logan on the off-chance he’d show up, but I didn’t even see Alice there.
And, strangely enough, her featured artist wall was empty. Had they decided to switch out the art? Showcase another piece for the official gallery opening?
I wanted to ask him about it. I wanted to know how he was doing after the Blizzard lost to the Avalanche. Whether Rourke was okay since he left after a bad hit and didn’t return to the bench.
I had so many questions. But Logan hadn’t called.
That night, I packed. My suitcase lay open on my bed, my clothes in a pile that looked like a thrift store explosion. I folded sweaters, stuffed socks into boots, and put all my dirty laundry in a trash bag to wash at home so I didn’t have to use our communal machines.
My dad showed up the next morning, and we drove away from campus. We passed the gallery on the way out of town. The parking lot was empty.
Somewhere, Logan was on a bus or a plane or a hotel bed, stretching tired muscles, taping his stick.
“If you’re cold, you can hit the button right there.” My dad pointed to the dash. “This model has heated seats.”
I blinked, turning away from the window and flicked my seat warmer to high.
Chapter
